Beneath still waters
by TheOneTrueBear
Summary: She sees more than he shows. He doesn't see her coming. Set in season 2, Chuck saves Horace's bar.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N so i realise i am extremely late to the GG party, and who knows if there's anyone even reading anymore. But Netflix sucked me into the series, Ed Westwick sucked me into the character, and dag nab it I had to write this! If anyone's still reading GG fic I hope you like it**

 **Chapter 1**

Vanessa feels her shoulders tense and her back straighten at the unexpected sight of Chuck sauntering smoothly into the gallery looking suave and relaxed and utterly Chuck Bass in his dark grey suit and livid purple shirt.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she snaps. Her stomach erupting with the sick churn of impotent rage; at him, at Blair and their twisted cat and mouse games, and at herself for being idiot enough to get caught in the middle.

"Relax Vanessa," he drawls. The familiar syllables of her name sound strange and foreign in the practiced sexiness of his husky drawl and she feels her jaw tick angrily. "I come in peace"

"Well you're not received that way. Get the hell out." She storms over to him and pushes violently at his chest. He's immovable and amused and God she hates him, almost as much as she hates herself for falling for his crap.

"Easy there," he smirks and his eyes sparkle. There's either something nasty about his charm or perhaps something charming about his wickedness, she can't decide and she's not going to waste another second of her life wondering about it. Or anything else Chuck Bass.

"Vanessa," he turns serious and impatient when she shoves him again. "Stop, I have good news"

She steps back, crosses her arms defensively over her chest, and raises an eyebrow in sceptical invitation for him to speak. The corner of his mouth lifts into what might approximate to a genuine smile and he reaches into his inside jacket pocket to pull out a neatly folded piece of paper which he hands to her with an almost coy flick of his gaze to her eyes.

Vanessa takes a deep breath and unfolds the paper. The words of the letter are so thrilling and impossible that she reads them again to be certain. Checks the headed paper to be sure it's genuine, and rereads the final line again before she eventually looks up at him.

He's not smiling, although she can feel one pressing at her own lips, he's watching her with that intense squinting gaze of his, and waiting, just waiting, for her reaction.

"Is this real?"

He nods and maybe his lips twitch just a little. She looks back at the letter again, rereads the final line a third time, and to her shame she squeals.

He laughs then, or rather he chuckles, deep and husky, and warmer than his usual scoffing laughter. "Signed today."

"But your dad-"

He shrugs one shoulder languidly as he cuts her off. "Well I enlisted some support, the new Mrs Bass' opinion carries far more clout with the old man than his son's."

He says it like its nothing, and if she hadn't overheard Big Bad Bart shoot Chuck's proposal down at the party and seen the moment's desolation that had flowed across Chuck's gaze she'd never have guessed how badly that hurt him.

"I can't believe this," she grins. "Does Horace know?"

"Well as I suspect Horace isn't my number one fan at the moment, and as it's entirely possible he has a gun in the bar, I thought I'd recruit you as bodyguard for the trip." The reasoning doesn't seem very genuine but she won't push right now, she just grabs her coat and follows him to the waiting limo.

An hour later they're seated in the dusty gloom of the bar after they've delivered the good news and gone over the details of Chuck's vision for updating the premises without compromising its Speakeasy authenticity. It's a well thought out proposal and she's listened with a grudging respect to the confident business man that this womanizing creep is clearly destined to be.

Horace gives her a hug before they leave then he turns and his hand falls with fatherly good will on Chucks shoulder. "I misjudged you son." He says sincerely. "Hope you won't hold it against me"

That's when Vanessa sees a flash of something in Chucks face she knows is going to send her spiralling back into wasting her precious time contemplating the enigma of this spoiled rich kid with his terrible reputation and fucked up daddy issues. "No sir" he replies and she thinks for a second that, yes, she can categorise that fleeting look before his expression settles in to familiar impassiveness.

She thinks perhaps it's yearning, and that makes her feel, despite every terrible thing she knows him to be, desperately sad for him.

tbc...


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Blair turns away from him and gathers her hair up. Exposing the candellit skin at the base of her neck. He knows what she's doing, enticing him in with her beauty. It's no less obvious than when he'd walked, sneering, away from her at the bar. But she's worn down his defences and he wants her so much he doesn't even care.

"I'm not going to say it" she tells him, confirming what he already knew.

"I don't care" and he truly doesn't, let her have her victory, if he gets to be close to her, let her have it.

But her phone won't shut up and the urgency with which she insists he ignore it sets off his suspicions and he grabs it.

The text message feels like a bucket of cold water thrown over his head. He shouldn't be surprised; his girl does love her victories to be public. 'Gonna be e-z' that's what she's told Serena. Easy, like him. Chuck Bass reduced to Blair Waldorf's sex toy. Easy. Convenient.

He doesn't know why he goes to Vanessa. But here he is, in fucking Brooklyn, standing outside her coffee shop watching the door and wallowing in the certain knowledge that Blair will toy with him forever if he lets her and he hasn't a single friend in the world he can turn to.

"Chuck" she's surprised and incredulous when she finally appears, her hair frizzy from the steam of the café and her pretty face clear of makeup. He might normally be scornful of such a lack of care in her appearance but at this moment it's so very much the opposite of Blair that he welcomes the sight. "What are you doing here?"

It's a less hostile greeting than last time and her brow is pinched with what might just be concern so he forgets the bullshit story he'd come up with about the bar and just shrugs dejectedly.

Vanessa looks awkwardly around as if looking for backup, or perhaps an escape route. She finds none and turns back to him frowning in confusion. "You ok?"

He can't think of a single thing to say and he's regretting coming here when his silence seems to have the desired effect. "Look I'm heading home, come if you want"

He follows her to her tiny flat and looks around. "Delightful" he can't help the scorn in his voice and she glares at him making him feel vaguely abashed at being a dick when she's opened her door to him.

"Coffee?" she asks, choosing to ignore his rudeness. "Tea? Soda?"

He gives her a pointed look and she rolls her eyes and reaches up to a high shelf to retrieve the cheapest looking bottle of whiskey he's ever seen.

"So" she prompts as he throws back a shot of the disgusting stuff and grimaces. "Let me guess, Blair?"

"Blair," he confirms.

"Wanna talk ab-"

"No"

"Ok" she does that escape route look again and he relents, drops his defences, and sighs.

"I'm done being her plaything," he says but he doesn't sound as defiant as he'd like. "She can torture someone else."

Vanessa considers his words, like she actually heard him, like she cares. Then she nods. "Good, I don't think she brings out the best in you"

"There is no best in me," he curses how bitter he knows he sounds, knowing how much it gives away to someone listening as closely as she is. It's both terrifying and thrilling to have someone, for what feels like the first time in his life, truly looking at him.

Vanessa's earthy eyes are serious and penetrating, as if she's looking right into him. Looking beneath his flamboyant style, beneath his smouldering charm, even beneath his massive wealth. She's looking deep, she's looking for the man beneath the mask that is Chuck Bass and it makes him want to run like hell.

So, he tilts his head, leans in close and retreats behind battlements of smarm. He locks his eyes to hers, twists his lips seductively and watches her gaze withdraw until she's pissed off and he knows she only sees Chuck Bass.

"Leave," she spits when his comments become too lude and he leers and walks away confident she'll never make the mistake of imagining he has any depth again. Except that when he glances over his shoulder that little frown is back and she watches with eyes he fears see absolutely everything.

He retreats to 1812 and doesn't surface for the rest of the weekend. Doesn't call anyone, and isn't missed enough to get a single call. He gets so drunk and high that he actually throws up for the first time since he was thirteen and thinks about Blair till his head throbs and his body aches.

On Monday morning, he wraps his scarf around his neck slicks back his hair and saunters into the school yard. He walks past Blair and her little posse without a look. Taunts his new sister and nods dispassionately to Nate as his best friend walks past with Dan fucking Humphry as if it's the two of them have been friends since kindergarten.

It's a long miserable day and by the time the bell rings he's ready to crawl back into a bottle as soon as he makes it to his limo.

But his way is blocked by an obstacle of cheap fabric and gaudy earrings. Vanessa leans against the sleek black car looking utterly out of place and fidgeting nervously with her phone. "Chuck" she straightens and he gives her a quizzical look

"While it's always a pleasure to rub shoulders with the working class, I'm a little busy and you're in my way" he knows he's being an ass but she's blindsided him by showing up here. He thought he'd done a pretty good job of reminding her of how much she hates him on Friday night.

She doesn't rise to the bait, she just looks at him and bites her lip nervously. "Can we talk?"

"I'm busy," he tells her in a bored tone.

"Busy right," she folds her arms, all sass and provocation. "Like you were 'busy' this weekend?"

He narrows his eyes, clearly, she knows how he courted oblivion this weekend. Part of him prickles at her nerve, but another part wonders why she cared enough to know.

"Exactly," he sneers and tips his head in command for her to get out of his way. She steps grudgingly aside but her words stop him with his hand on the door.

"I read Dan's story," she says it like a confession and like a challenge and she has that look in her eye again that makes him feel exposed almost as much as it makes him feel seen, finally, actually seen.

Inside he's raging. Raging that Humphry would do that, raging that she saw it, raging that it's all true. On the outside, he's cold; impenetrable. "Pure fiction I can assure you." He voice is a dismissal but he lingers the split second that gives him away and she notices, always notices, and offers him a small unsure smile.

"Give me a ride?" she proposes and he nods and holds the door for her to climb in. He doesn't see Blair Waldorf watching him go with simmering eyes.

Chuck's suite is grand on a scale that boggles her mind and all evidence of the weekend's excesses have already been cleared away.

"He's in the Palace drinking himself into a coma and breaking the furniture." She remembers Serena's confused answer when she'd casually tried to find out where Chuck was this weekend. "Rest assured he's miserable and pathetic. As he should be." The blonde had told her, assuming she was still smarting after Chuck and Blair's fun game of _Torment Vanessa._

But the story she'd read had easily eclipsed all and any resentment. She'd love to say she'd stumbled on it by accident, it would sound so much less crazy than admitting she'd loitered in Dan's room while he'd taken a shower and, with her heart beating frantically in her chest, scoured his laptop for the piece he'd grudgingly admitted was the best thing he'd ever written.

Once she'd had it on her thumb drive she'd headed home, poured herself a large glass of white wine and read. Dan's talented and the story would have wrenched at any heart. But for her - knowing Chuck, knowing the way his dad treats him, knowing it was true – it had been almost physically painful to read.

"All true, too" Dan had laughed when he'd told her about the story. And as she'd read the passage about Charlie Tusk's confession - "He thinks I killed her. Perhaps he's right" - she'd been able to picture Chucks dark eyes so clearly her chest had ached in sympathy.

"Wow," she says, just to say something. "How the other half live huh?"

He looks over his shoulder at her and quirks an eyebrow, then pours two large measures of the most expensive looking whiskey she's ever seen and throws himself down languidly on the couch. "So," he swirls his drink and tries to look bored. "Humpty dumpty put my little fiction to good use. If it had been true I'm sure I'd have been put out"

"Stop it" she orders. She hadn't meant to but his denials are as transparent as his indifference and she has no patience for either. "If you're not going to be honest don't talk"

He purses his lips and lifts an eyebrow and it strikes her for the first time how handsome he is. Not handsome like Nate with his near perfect features and athletic frame and certainly nothing like Dan's unassuming boy next door charm. No Chuck is handsome in a way that's purely Chuck. He's all harsh angles, sharp and unapproachable. Even his lips, full as they are, look that way, chiselled rather than moulded. His eyes are dark and intense, almost squinting, as if constantly narrowed in suspicion. Or perhaps more like the windows of a medieval castle through which he can see out but no one could hope to enter.

The thought that Chuck is attractive unsettles her and she downs her drink, marvelling at how different it tastes from her own cheap bottle of scotch, and holds it out for a refill. He mirrors the action, grabs the bottle and refills both.

Another drink goes, then another and he matches her pace and watches her with his fortress gaze as if she's a puzzle he's suddenly become interested in solving. And if that's not a reason to drink, she doesn't know what is.

He takes pity on her and makes conversation. Tells her how the renovations are going at the Speakeasy and she hears, as he speaks, a genuine enthusiasm creep into his voice. He's been down to inspect the works a few times he tells her and she wonders if he really goes to see Horace, who has after all in the handful of business meetings provided more fatherly encouragement than his own father has in a lifetime.

"Why did you save it?" she asks suddenly. Drunk enough to ask, hoping he's drunk enough to answer. "Was it because it's a good investment or because you liked Horace"

He considers her, looking up through his lashes, then he finishes his drink, pours another and leans forward. "A little of both," he says with his eyes locked on hers. "And because I wanted someone to look at me the way you did at the party, before Blair pulled her little stunt, like I was worth something"

She leans forward too, aware that they're both extremely drunk and dangerously honest. "You think you're not?" it's a question, but it's not because he's already told her as much more than once. He leans back and looks away. "Shit," she mutters. "Your dad has really screwed you up"

He laughs bitterly and brings his eyes back to hers. "You don't say"

And with that her sanity exits the building and she's slipping off her chair and crawling round the table to kneel at his feet. "Hey," she demands his gaze and when he denies her she reaches up and forces him to look at her with her hands on his cheeks. His jaw beneath her fingers is clean shaven and just as sharp and hard as she'd imagined. But the skin is smooth and warm and the contradictions he embodies rattle about in her head. "Hey," she repeats once she has his eyes. "You're dad's an asshole. He's disappointed in you? Well screw him, he's the disappointment, what kind of father treats his own son like that?"

Chuck's eyes don't leave hers but she feels his gaze go away and turn towards the past and every shitty thing his father has ever done to him. Her compassion stirs in her stomach filling her with a visceral need to pull him back from wherever his bad memories have taken him and show him he isn't nothing.

"You are worth something Chuck, don't let him make you believe otherwise," she tells him but he barely seems to hear and the need to comfort him flares brightly in her gut. So, she does something really stupid, she kisses him.

His lips aren't harsh as she'd expected them to be, they're hot and soft and completely still under hers. After a second she pulls away, blushing furiously, as she mutters an apology and stumbles inelegantly to her feet.

She goes without looking back and he lets her without a word.

Blair approaches him the next day at school. Hands on hips, eyes flashing in challenge. She's beautiful and she's malicious and he thinks Vanessa might be right that she's bad for him.

"Bass," she greets coldly.

"Waldorf," he returns and readies himself for whatever attack she's mounting. Part of him is excited, always excited around her, itching to lock horns with her, but part of him is tired and sad because fun as the game is, he loves her and for all her declarations he's starting to think she doesn't really love him.

She's talking about some girl at school who's stepped out of line, she's recruiting him for her planned revenge tonight. She doesn't need him, she's quite capable of making a junior suffer all on her own. She leans in provocatively, her glossy lips close to his ear. "You up for it?"

It's a game, it's all a game with her, and he finds that he's not in the least up for it. "Sorry Waldorf, I have something to do tonight"

She rears back, outraged and offended. "What could you possibly have to do, apart from hookers and loner drinking?"

He hates that she's right and filled with relief when Nate appears at his side looking awkward. "Hey man, can I talk to you"

He nods a farewell to Blair and falls in to step beside his old friend. "What you did at Yale was out of order," Nathanial begins and he sneers at the thought of another chiding. "But it has been suggested to me that maybe it's not worth losing my best friend over"

Chucks eyes narrow suspiciously, who could possibly have been lobbying on his behalf? His step sister perhaps, tired of his moping and looking to offload the problem onto Nathaniel.

He nods and feels a prickle of self-loathing at his own utter inability to properly handle anything even resembling human caring. He thinks of Vanessa's lips, a little rough, chased and compassionate on his own. He'd frozen rigid with fear at such a simple gesture of affection and hadn't even had the balls to call after her as she'd fled.

He drags his attention back to Nathaniel and tries to formulate a response that won't send his friend away. He decides on a simple. "Thanks man" which Nate accepts with a nod of his own.

"So, who made this suggestion?"

"Vanessa, weirdly" Nate moves them on and it feels good to walk alongside his old friend again.

"Really?" he asks, surprised she'd do anything for him after she'd scuttled away from his suite with her face flaming.

"Yeah, we got together last night. We're giving up on this whole dating thing, it never seems to work out." Nate shrugs nonchalantly, clearly happy enough to let Vanessa go. "She left me with the thought that we shouldn't give up on our friends even if they're being jerks"

Chuck feels his expression turning confused and draws down a mask of impassiveness, while inside his head's spinning with questions. Vanessa, breaking up with Nate, trying to fix his friendship, kissing him. None of it makes sense. If she were Blair he'd be on high alert for the sting in the tail of her scheme. But she's not Blair, and he doubts she's embroiled in some convoluted revenge plot.

"I suppose I should thank her then," he keeps his voice scornful but Nathanial takes the words at face value. He's master of ignoring Chuck's emotional shortfalls after all.

"Yeah. Hey I'm heading over to Brooklyn now actually to meet Dan and V. Tag along?"

"To Brooklyn?" He rolls his eyes but his curiosity gets the better of him and he give a negligent shrug. "Sure"

The Humphry loft is just as depressingly low rent as he'd expected and Dan glares inhospitably at him. He's regretting coming when Vanessa arrives with Little J. She stops abruptly at the sight of him and her eyes go comically wide.

"Urgh," Jenny makes a disgusted face. "What's he doing here?"

He tips his head and forces an amused smirk onto his lips but doesn't offer and explanation. Dan makes a sarcastic comment that he doesn't really hear, he's practiced at ignoring what people say about him.

He hears Vanessa though, scolding Dan with a harsh whisper of his name and looks at her from under his lashes. She gives him an awkward smile and steps over. "Hey"

He just nods. He can't think of anything to say, but another thing he's practiced in is making his silences appear deliberate and she fidgets and fills the space he leaves between them. "So, I swung by the bar. It looks great, Horace says you'll open soon."

He smiles, because for all his wealth and his practiced coolness he's still a teenager taking his first real steps in an adult world and he's excited. "Yes," he gestures with his arm, drawing her away from the others and they stand together, him leaning indolently against the bare brick wall, while he tells her his plans for the opening weekend. "Well we can't avoid the full Bass industry glitz but I was thinking a pre-launch next weekend, something more local, intimate"

Vanessa curses herself because when he says 'intimate', his voice drops to a deep and sensuous husk. She doesn't even think he does it on purpose, it's just the way Chuck Bass speaks. But she's not used to it and she actually licks her lips in response.

He doesn't notice, his eyes are intently fixed on hers. "Will you come?" he asks softly and then, possibly because her eyes widen in surprise, he adds. "Horace would appreciate it"

"What are you two whispering about?" Dan asks suspiciously. "Because I could really do without any more crazy revenge schemes"

Vanessa laughs and makes a quip about having no interests in upper eastside games. It's his cue to leave and she walks him out with a transparent excuse that has her friends looking at one another in concern. They wait on the curb for his driver in the chill evening air and when she shivers he wraps his jacket around her shoulders and stands too close.

"Thank you" he murmurs and she frowns her confusion.

"For?"

The fact she doesn't even know what he's thanking her for tells him how naturally compassion comes to her and in the warm glow of her good nature he feels open in a way that's foreign to him. "Everything," he says softly. "For Nathanial, for coming over yesterday, for everything"

Her eyes flick to his lips and she looks uncomfortable. She's thinking of the kiss he didn't return, and he imagines she's worried he'd take that simple gesture of compassion as something more than it was. He's hardly going to talk about it but he wants to make her more comfortable so he evens the playing field.

His hand slips under her hair and he uses it to tip her head down slightly as he pulls her towards him and lays a kiss on her forehead. "Thank you" he says again, then he goes, slipping into the limo that has just pulled up without looking back and without reclaiming his jacket.

Gossip girl captures it of course. Chuck Bass with one hand in the pocket of his suit pants and one in Vanessa's hair, his lips lingering on her forehead.

"Spotted, is C finally giving up on the Queen?" the blast reads the next morning. "Sorry B, looks like Serena's not the only Bass/van der Woodsen slumming it out in Brooklyn these days"

Humiliation burns in Blair's chest and tears prick her eyes. She wipes at them with sharp angry movements and closes her phone with a snap. She takes one deep steadying breath, fluffs her hair and strides into the school courtyard. Her minions look anxiously, and perhaps a little rebelliously, at her and she stares them down, daring them to mention the blast. None of them do, she's still queen and no Chuck Bass, and certainly no Vanessa Abrams, is going to change that.

At lunch, she sees the object of her ire standing awkwardly in the courtyard, clasping an expensive suit jacket to her chest and clearly looking for Chuck. She sashays over and gets in the darker girl's eyes line.

"Blair," Vanessa greets stiffly. "Have you seen Chuck?"

Blair raise her eyebrows. "He's around. You know I'm sure you could just leave that," she gestures to the jacket. "Deliveries are round the back"

Vanessa sighs at Blair's snide tone and resolves to ignore the other girl and just wait for Chuck.

"Look Vanessa," Blair says with false concern. "Whatever you think is happening with you and Chuck, it's not. I don't want to see you get hurt"

Vanessa tries and fails to keep the irritation out of her voice. "Thanks for your concern"

"You see," Blair continues as if she hadn't spoken. "With Chuck and I monogamy's a little different. It really doesn't matter who we're screwing, only who we're thinking about, and believe me Chuck is _always_ thinking about me. So even if you get him, you never actually get him. I'd recommend you drop the jacket round the back and go back to Brooklyn while you still have a tiny sliver of self-respect"

"Blair," Chucks voice is at Vanessa's shoulder sounding sharp and dangerous. "What are you doing?"

Blair gives him a sugary smile. "Making my point." She turns to Vanessa and grabs Chuck's jacket. "You can go"

Vanessa glances at Chuck as Blair hands him the jacket with a sweet smile, his eyes are burning into Blair's. There's an intensity to his gaze that makes her think that right now he can't see anything else. The rush of jealousy she feels is scarily strong and she turns and flees.

"Vanessa," Chucks voice follows her and she keeps striding away as the sound of his footsteps giving chase.

"What are you doing?" Blair sounds outraged.

"Making mine" Chuck snarls at his ex, then he's following her again, and she slows just enough to let him catch up and turns to smile warmly at him. She's not proud to admit it but when she glances back to see Blair watching in confused indignation she does feel a tiny bit victorious.

"Sorry about Blair, she has the wrong idea about us"

"Yeah, look no worries," she's desperate to get away. They're just friends and she shouldn't be feeling this damn miserable at the thought that he's still so very into Blair. "I gotta go"

"Vanessa," he grabs her arm as she turns away. "See you Friday?"

"Sure," it's all she can do not to break into a run as she walks away from him. She's done the unrequited thing before and she can't believe she's heading down that road again. But Chuck just won't get out of her head. The glimpses of a man she sees, damaged and fragile, beneath his inimical shell, fascinate and attract her in a way she hasn't been able to resist.

She should stop right now. She's been thinking about him, seeking him out both in her mind and here on the Upper Eastside, and she has to stop right now if she's going to avoid getting her heart accidentally trampled beneath his feet. She resolves to stay well away from him.

Her resolution barely lasts the subway ride home and by the time she's closing the coffee shop that evening she's thought herself round in a circle and come out determined to be a good friend to Chuck. He needs that, she tells herself, and she can handle a tiny crush which will probably be gone in a week or so anyway, if it means offering him a sane solid friendship to balance out the madness of his other relationships.


End file.
